


dance with me ‘till the stars die in the sky

by Skeliae Verat (Verat)



Series: if the sun comes up will it tear the skin right off our bones [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Not Beta Read, Romance, Skinny!Steve, This is awkward, Vampire!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verat/pseuds/Skeliae%20Verat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someday Steve will die. Bucky knows it. But as he holds the skinny body in his hands, guiding him, nothing else matters. They both exist in this moment. And for now, this is good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the series is from Vampires Will Never Hurt You, a song by My Chemical Romance.  
> Oh, well. As always, I have no idea of what I'm doing (I'll get there someday, I think).  
> I hope you enjoy it :)

_And if they get me and the sun goes down into the ground (My Chemical Romance)_

 

James is born in european territory in a lost dark day of 1357. He’s all small and his tiny hands are pale and he’s born cold like the winds that howl madly outside the house. His mother hugs him with gentle but strong arms — stronger than they should be — and sobs in his black, black hair while his father watches from the door.

James is born like a dead child but he breathes and breathes and breathes, and even though he never cries his mother knows his heart is still beating.

 

____________________

 

James is a lonely kid. As other boys at his age run and laugh and play in the winding streets, he just sits in front of the window and watch everyone and everything. His trembling fingers dance above his knees and his sad eyes follow the birds and the clouds and the sun — and he dreams about sunny mornings and warm nights. He dreams about talking with another kids and with other people and with making friends. James dreams about going out — but he never goes.

 

____________________

 

James doesn’t eat much. Isn’t like they have a lot of food — times are tough — but at least they have something to eat. Not James, though. Never James. Sometimes, when he’s too hungry and his mouth starts watering at the sight of food, he will chew some beans or grains — but his body will always reject it and he will be sick for days. The cold doesn’t help. It’s always hunting them all. It makes him tremble, it freezes him to the bone. It makes hard to move, because his joints ache and his lungs doesn’t seem like they could bring him another slice of oxygen. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why he grows all prominent bones, tired eyes and grey-pale skin.

 

____________________

 

James is a weak man. He has weak hands that can’t hold anything for too long, and he has weak arms that can’t support not even the weight of his own body. He has a weak heart that fails at its only function and he has weak lungs that make his breath come scratching his throat. He has a weak skin that burns easily in the sun and weak feet that hurt at the shortest walk. James is all weakness and hurt and purposelessness.

 

____________________

 

Almost half of half a century after his birth, he’s still alive. Maybe it’s just a fate’s joke because James fights the fear and the hunger and the cold — but he can’t fight the Plague. His father prays and his mother cries and the priest gives him his final blessing as the fever consumes him. His weak, weak body can’t do this anymore and his will isn’t — never was — enough to make him survive.

James dies in a lost cold day of 1379 — and in a spring warm night of 1380, Bucky, with strong hands and bloodlust, rises from his grave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. It took way more time than I intended to but it's finally finished (yay! \o). I purposely let some things in the dark because I intend to write about them later (but feel free to see it as you want).  
> I hope you enjoy it :)

The world from his eyes is all gray and dark and _so fucking strange_. Bucky doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how the cities are so full of trash and how the ground is always dirty. He doesn’t like how people will close their houses’ doors and pray for a said-merciful god while they’re dying from hunger and cold and sickness. He doesn’t like how their blood will often taste like salt and dust on his tongue and how some of them won’t even fight when he grabs them by the neck and sinks his teeth in their soft, soft skin (still, the thirst never goes away. It’s one of the first things Bucky learns about himself — being the first the fact that he can’t stand not even a flash of sunlight or he’ll feel like he’s burning from inside out).

But Bucky doesn’t need to like it. Truth be told, he doesn’t need even learn about it. He decides to doesn’t care.

 

____________________

 

Years pass like water through his fingers. Bucky loses track of time — it doesn’t mean too much if you don’t age. People are always the same. They change their clothes and change their languages and change their culture — but they never change at all. They’re just that: blood and flesh and bones and a lot of senseless cruelty. When he’s in a bad mood, Bucky will just sit and watch as they kill themselves for trivial reasons. He will even have his part at it. Bucky likes to see how it’s just takes a little push and they’ll turn against each other with whatever they have in hands. They’re so human, so weak, so _flawed_. They don’t even see it — how their called humanity is fragile.

On other hand, when he’s in a good mood — what happens every few years — he will even talk to them. _Blend himself to them_. Bucky will act like them and will smile like them and he will make them believe he’s one of them. He will see the good in them, how some people care about each other and how they smile just to make others feel better — even when themselves aren’t that ok. Every few years Bucky will start to _like_ them — just to be reminded that _he’s not a human, he will never be_ , and while they all will die he will remain just like he is now.

 

____________________

 

There’s no feeling like drinking blood. Bucky can’t say it’s like he’s alive again — because being alive was awful, because being James meant being constantly sick and hurt and weak — but must be something like this for who liked being alive. Once, in the mid of 17th century, he met another one like him — immortal. She called herself Shostakova — and she was beautiful like the moon that rises at night, silver and bright. She said to him that drink blood was like to drink life. In that precious infinite seconds, everything the humans had — lives, dreams, feelings, everything (maybe even souls, if something like this even existed) — became theirs.

Bucky liked her. He really, really liked her. Shostakova had a snarky smile, heart-shaped lips and she smelled nice — she smelled like blood, warm, sweet, _pure_. Of course it didn’t end well — and people were screaming and running and lighting up torches the last time he saw her. For some reason — maybe because they call too much attention —, creatures like them aren’t supposed to live together. Bucky never tried again.

 

____________________

 

20th century, during the 30’s, Bucky moves to New York (although it’s a good century to live, caution is never enough). And it is in the dark and desolate streets of Brooklyn that he meets lonely Steve Rogers — a boy with a braveheart and weak fingers.

 

____________________

 

It’s the smell of blood that catches his attention. Almost bittersweet, sick, warm blood. Bucky’s body guides him to the back alley like an instinct, without him even noticing it.

There’s two boys fighting there. One of them is tall, dark hair, big hands. The other one is skinny, blonde hair, thin fingers. Bucky has no reason to stop the beating but he does it anyway (or maybe he has a reason — bittersweet blood makes him nauseous —, he just decides to ignore the fact).

  
  


The blonde smells like earth and rain and blood — and fading old leather. Bucky likes him already.

“Hey, kid. What’s your name?”

The boy looks at him, golden hair falling and half-hiding his angry, angry blue eyes.

“I’m Steve Rogers, _sir_. And I’m not a kid.”

 

____________________

 

Steve Rogers, Bucky quickly learns, is a fool stubborn. He pick fights he can’t handle. He’s sick and weak and is always struggling to breathe — but doesn’t matter how much he bleeds he never gives up.

Steve Rogers, Bucky also learns, is a sweet boy. He is gentle and kind and respectful — and he doesn’t have anyone.

 

____________________

 

He isn’t supposed to discover, not at all, but he discovers anyway. Maybe it’s because they play hide-and-seek in the streets of Brooklyn and it was Steve’s time to seek. Maybe it’s because Bucky isn’t lucky. Maybe there’s no reason at all, is the only thing he’s sure about, and the blonde looks at him. Bucky knows he doesn’t must to be the most beautiful vision in Earth now — the blood dripping from his jaw is still warm.

“You… _What the hell_ ‒ Bucky?”

“Your people like to call me vampire now.” Bucky licks the blood of his lips. Well, if he really has to do this... “But I was vrykolakas in Greece, zombie in Africa, and strigoi in Romania.” he shrugs. “I like to call myself Bucky.”

Steve shivers, taking a step back. His breathing stops for a second.

“I’m not going to kill you, Steve.” Bucky tells him, soft voice (and it is true). “I like you. I want to keep you.”

“I’m not going to become‒ I don’t want to be‒” Steve swallows. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

Bucky tumbles his head. He’s not going to say he doesn’t know how to make Steve a vampire because he has an idea, of course, he just doesn’t want to risk it.

“Why not?”

“Because‒ I don’t want to kill people.”

“What makes you think that we always kill people?”

Steve stares at him.

“Don’t you?”

_Clever boy._

“Maybe.”

 

____________________

 

Steve struggles a little but Bucky can be stubborn when he wants too. They don’t stop seeing each other.

 

____________________

 

Bucky waits until Steve’s mother is sleeping before he crawls through the window to the boy’s room. Sometimes, Steve is already sleep and Bucky will just look at him for a brief second before sitting on the ground and waiting for his time to go. Sometimes, Steve is still awake and they will pass hours and hours talking. Steve will talk about his childhood and Bucky will tell him bits of things about the past — and they’ll guess the future.

They don’t talk about immortality or death, though. Bucky doesn’t bother — he’s used to it — but Steve doesn’t look like he wants.

 

____________________

 

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“Everything they say about vampires. I mean… Sacred ground and everything else.”

“Well… Some of them. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I don’t know… Sunlight?”

“Burns. I believe that if I stood for long enough it would kill me but I’m not going to try.”

“Crosses?”

“Hurts my eyes. Nothing big if I don’t look directly.”

“Garlic?”

“Myth.”

“Spikes?”

“It doesn’t kill but it hurts like hell, if you wanna know.”

Bucky shows him the thin red scar in his collarbone. Steve looks scandalized.

“ _Someone took a spike to you?_ ”

 

____________________

 

Sarah Rogers dies in a rainy day of 1940. When Steve is back from the funeral he looks at Bucky like he expects the brunet to say something. Bucky won’t. He won’t say she’s in a better place now, he won’t say it’s going to be okay because he has lived enough to know it’s not the right thing to say. He smells it in Steve — the boy is exhausted and sad and soft words won’t bring him any kind of comfort.

“Do you want me to stay?” is the only thing he asks.

Steve stares at him for a second before answering a quietly “no”.

Bucky doesn’t.

 

____________________

 

He’s back a few nights after with a gramophone under his arm. Steve doesn’t raise his eyes to see what he’s doing until he lets the music play.

“Where did you get this?”, the blonde asks, slightly amused and slightly worried but still looking tired. ( _Did you kill someone?_ )

“Nowhere important.”, Bucky shrugs. ( _No._ ) “Give me your hand.”

Steve just stares at him.

“C’mon, punk.”, Bucky smiles, reaching out. “Give me your hand.”

With a sigh, Steve gives up. Bucky pulls him closer, making Steve’s feet stand on his.

“Bucky?” the boy seems hesitating.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m doing nothing. _We_ ’re dancing.”

Steve sighs again. They keep like this for brief seconds, close, silent, gently swaying to and fro.

“Hold me.” Steve finally asks, resting his head in Bucky’s shoulder.

And Bucky does. Someday, his mind tells him, Steve will die. Someday his body will be a coffin seven feet under the ground and Bucky will watch as the undertaker digs the grave. Someday this love will be nothing in the sands of time and as the world spins and spins people will change — and Steve will be nothing but a fading memory. Bucky knows it, deep in James’ heart that stopped beating a long time ago. But as he holds  Steve’s skinny body in his strong hands and gentle guides him through the floor, he knows that this moment will last forever — his and Steve’s memory will be dancing at the starlights until the end of times.

For now, it’s good enough.


End file.
